Impossible Dreams
by Eunoia
Summary: I shocked myself by writing a Frunn story. Short, takes place partly in season three and partly in season five. Kind of depressing. The rating's only for language. Please review!


_Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or situations. That honour is Mutant Enemy's alone._  
  
Fred's face was screwed up; her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth. She looked so damn cute Gunn almost didn't want to disturb her, but he knew Angel would be even more pissed off than usual if he didn't.  
  
"Fred? Sorry to interrupt you, but Angel wants to know if you've finished with the blood sample for the Kevlar demon yet."  
  
"Oh. Right. Another blood sample." Fred sighed, blowing the hair out of her face in that way that Gunn loved. Man, he had to stop finding things about her he loved; he was turning into one of those dudes who couldn't stop mooning over a chick. It was strange to think that a few years ago he wouldn't have looked twice at a girl like this, and now he couldn't keep his eyes off of her.  
  
"Seems like blood samples and research are all you do nowadays, huh?"  
  
"Tell me about it. I haven't even had the time to think about physics in God knows how long. If you knew me a few years ago, you'd realize how dangerous that is to my health and general wellbeing."  
  
"What were you like a few years ago?"  
  
Fred giggled. "That's quite a question. I wouldn't know where to begin."  
  
"I dunno. Did you always know you wanted to be a physicist?"  
  
"Maybe not a physicist per se, but I always knew I wanted to learn. And with physics it seemed like I could learn the impossible, you know what I mean?"  
  
"Not exactly."  
  
"Well, light speed, portals, black holes...it's all like something out of a fantasy novel, but with just some equations and a computer, you can work towards making it a reality. I guess that's why I find demons and magic and things so interesting too. They're real life impossibilities."  
  
"I guess never thought about it that way. When I was growing up demons were just another thing we had to protect ourselves against. They were reality, but hardly exciting."  
  
"I can't imagine you as a child. What were you like? What did the ten- year-old Charles Gunn want to become?"  
  
"Eleven."  
  
"Oh, come on Charles, don't be such a drama queen. You must have had a dream of some kind."  
  
"Look, Fred, I don't think you quite understand what it was like to grow up in my neighbourhood. People didn't dream. Dreaming was a distraction; and we couldn't afford to be distracted!"  
  
"I—I'm sorry Charles, I didn't realize."  
  
"I don't want your pity!"  
  
"Well then stop asking for it," she replied exasperatedly.  
  
He couldn't help but laugh. She wasn't afraid of him at all.  
  
Fred smiled. "So, aren't you going to tell me your dream? You must have one or you wouldn't have gotten all defensive."  
  
"Well, there was something, I guess. But it was never a real possibility or anything."  
  
"Ooh, an impossible dream. Just like mine."  
  
"I kind of...well, I wanted to work in an office. Have a stapler, and a pencil case, maybe a calculator. And a filing cabinet. Definitely a filing cabinet. And maybe a secretary. Something with a little order." As soon as he said it, Gunn was embarrassed. He had never told anyone this fantasy, seeing as it was possibly the lamest fantasy ever. "You have to promise not to tell anyone, okay?"  
  
Fred smiled at him. "Of course I won't. I think it's a great dream. And not impossible."  
  
"Right. Any day now I'll be Mr. Joe Regular, working my way up from the cubicle to the corner office with the view."  
  
"Charles, you've seen so much in your life and yet you can't even imagine that you can get an office job? That's kind of sad. Well, I don't care if you don't believe, because I do."  
  
Gunn opened his mouth to argue, but Fred covered it with her hand. "Nope. I'm not letting you argue, mister. I know it'll happen for you. You boys are all so depressing with your 'blah blah, the world sucks, we never get what we want' stuff. I still have hope, and you can't take that away from me."  
  
Gunn would never tell her, but he had no desire to.

* * *

"And this is your office." The aide opened the double doors, then stepped back to allow Gunn to enter. There was a dark wood desk near the window, bookshelves lining the walls, and there, in the corner, was a filing cabinet. "Ms. Burkle has been phoning incessantly to ensure that the filing cabinet would be available upon your arrival. You must really like filing."

* * *

Gunn sat at his desk, staring into space. Fred was dead. She was gone and he had killed her. His coming here had killed her. Coming here had turned him into a killer. These thoughts swirled around in his head, pushing any other thoughts out of heads. Not all other thoughts. No. The law was still there, along with those fucking show tunes. His future, his career, those priceless items that he had traded for Fred. Not even knowing what he was doing, he got up and walked over to his filing cabinet. His perfect, smooth filing cabinet, all right angles. Organized and orderly. Suddenly he struck it with his foot, creating a soothing dent. Soon he was attacking it with full force, kicking and punching it until his knuckles were bleeding. One last kick for good measure, and the mangled shape fell over, coming to rest on the carpet. 


End file.
